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Slide Show | Those Soviets, They’re Not So Different From Us In 1977, Nathan Farb, a left-leaning Jewish artist, was chosen by the U.S. government for a public relations trip to the Soviet Union, where he took portraits of Novosibirsk citizens.

By JONATHAN BLAUSTEIN

December 7, 2017

It’s hard to believe, but in 1977, the United States government tapped Nathan Farb, a left-leaning, hippie, Jewish artist to represent America on a public relations trip to the Soviet Union.

Let that sink in for a minute.

During the Carter administration, the U.S. Information Agency organized a traveling photography exhibition, aptly titled “Photography USA,” that toured the Eastern Bloc, including the Soviet Union. It was part of a multi-year effort by the U.S. government to present positive portrayals of the country — behind enemy lines, no less — which makes it that much stranger that someone like Mr. Farb would have been chosen as a cultural ambassador.

“I think your view of how different I was from, say, a jazz musician on the road for U.S.I.A. is a little overstated,” Mr. Farb deadpanned. “The world was clamoring for American music and jazz. And they sent every great musician around the world, multiple times. Does the world want American cars? Not really. The world wants American culture. And it certainly was that way then.”

A selection of images from the resulting project, “The Russians,” is on exhibit at the Wende Museum in Culver City, Calif., as a part of its mission to focus on the Cold War. His project depicts citizens of Novosibirsk, a Siberian city closer to Kazakhstan and Mongolia than it is to Western Europe. (He called it “the rough equivalent of Cleveland.”) He was included on the six-week trip after he had done a similar tour in Romania, and then begged to be included on the Soviet trip. The desire to visit the Soviet Union was personal for Mr. Farb, since he was raised in Lake Placid, N.Y., and was acutely aware of capitalism’s huge differences in wealth and class.

A girl with her grandmother.

Nathan Farb

“I became an 11- or 12-year-old Communist, you might say,” he said. “I grew up in a town where there was enormous wealth, and enormous poverty. It was painful, because I went to school with children who did not have socks to put on inside their galoshes in the winter.

“I think that’s where my early interest in Marx and Lenin came as a boy.”

During the project, Mr. Farb set up a mobile studio to photograph the locals as a demonstration of the technology. And he gave his subjects a Polaroid image as a memento of the experience. Little did they know, however, that there was another, secret, photo. In what feels like something out of a John le Carré novel, Mr. Farb was loading his 4×5 camera with Polaroid Type 55 film, which created both a positive and a negative image.

“I felt I was gaming both the U.S. State Department officials, and I was gaming the Russians,” he said. ‘Nobody really understood what I was doing with the Polaroids. That I had a negative, and that I was going to be able to bring this stuff back.”

He sent the negatives back with his personal mail, through the diplomatic pouches available to him.

As for the photographs, they depict a community that is much less foreign than we might imagine. The fashion represents ’70s style, with jean jackets and paisley prints. According to Mr. Farb, many of the women made their own clothes, and had occasional access to magazines from the outside world, so they joined the funky fresh fashion craze, like farmers hitting Studio 54.

There was also a unique aspect to the city, given its remote location.

“Every morning I would go down to my studio, and there would be these women cleaning up,” he said. “And they would sing the most hauntingly beautiful music. On the second or third day, I thought, ‘Of course, I’m not in Europe, and I’m not in Asia. I’m somewhere in between.’”

The reality was that Mr. Farb had a minder, a member of the Communist Party, to keep an eye on him. Fortunately, he was able to get a photograph of the entire party cadre, including his minder and, yes, it’s as awesome as it sounds.

Party chiefs. Novosibirsk, U.S.S.R.

Nathan Farb

The photo shows five dour, serious-looking men, including one who’s a dead ringer for Werner Herzog. Mr. Farb noted that even these representatives of Lenin and Stalin had fashioned themselves in a Western style, with one almost resembling Cary Grant, and another Charles de Gaulle.

There’s a healthy dose of the unexpected in these pictures, from a distance of 40 years, including a young woman with a pronounced mustache, who was apparently the mistress of one of the party chiefs, or the large older woman with the head scarf who’s rocking a serious set of metal teeth.

While the humor and political relevance might make “The Russians” seem of the moment, to Mr. Farb, the pictures are really meant to humanize our fellow man.

Frankly, he became emotional when describing how it felt to have a contemporary audience, online and on the wall, interact with his subjects, many of whom have died in the intervening years. When asked what his greatest desire is, when people look at the photographs, he simply replied: “I want them to love these people.”